‘They’re adjoining suites. Mine is through there. And this is yours. We can both check on Angelos when needed.’
Walking forward as he spoke, he threw open the doors leading to her suite…and stunned her all over again. There was a probability that one day she might get blasé about the luxury Nelios seemed to take in his stride. Today wasn’t that day.
But you have nearly two decades to get used to it.Her heart didn’t jump at the thought. But that squeezing replayed, harder, more insistent than before.
‘We share a common terrace,’ he went on, watching her with an edgy ferocity, as if it was vitally important to him that he interpret what she felt. Spotting a snazzy baby’s rocking chair similar to one they’d used before placed under a large sun umbrella complete with a light blanket, Vayle placed a drowsy Angelos in it and strapped him in. His eyes were drooping even before she turned away and walked to the edge of the terrace where Nelios was staring at the horizon. While the atmosphere was a little charged—and she suspected that, for as long as they were in close proximity, that chemistry they’d both acknowledged would create its own ecosystem—there was a lack of prowling restlessness about it.
It was as if Nelios was at peace here. ‘You didn’t just name this place for its shape, did you?’
He paused for a second, then sent her a tight smile. ‘I had an awakening of sorts here. The previous owner, who was forced to leave for health reasons, didn’t want to sell to me at first. Not until I’d given him a vision of what my intentions were for his pride and joy.’
‘I’m guessing he didn’t want it turned into a hedonistic Club Med destination for the rich?’
His mouth quirked. ‘Exactly so. And he wasn’t impressed with the prospect of another Nelios hotel, no matter howselective the clientele, or how sympathetic to the environment I intended to be.’
‘What was the awakening?’
‘That only my life was finite. That what I left behind could be truly infinite.’ His gaze drifted to his sleeping son. ‘I saw it as leaving a legacy without having actual offspring, but now I’m seeing it’s even better with.’
‘And that’s all it took to sway him?’
He shook his head and a guarded look descended over his face. ‘No. I told him that, for every year I owned his island, I would fund a necessary project somewhere in the world.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Really?’
‘Ne.’His gaze paused in the middle distance for an age before he glanced at her. ‘That morning after our night in Buenos Aires, I left because I had to oversee one of those projects.’ His shoulder twitched. ‘Granted, I didn’t have to leave that early, but I still would’ve left.’
She filed away the confession and pushed to satisfy her curiosity. ‘What was the project?’
‘Five hundred homes for families who need to relocate from the slums. Another five hundred for struggling families with young children who are at risk of being made homeless—or worse.’
Families, children, his possessive claiming of Angelos: she didn’t need a crystal ball to show her that, while Nelios was a wildly successful tycoon, there was an equally resolute part of him that was obsessed with righting the wrongs done to him at whatever level he could achieve. He couldn’t see that, in obsessing over the past, he was adversely affecting his present…and his future too.
Knowing she risked shattering the relative peace and tranquillity, she licked her lips and pushed ahead anyway. ‘You still owe me a re-telling of your story.’
He stiffened and his jaw worked for a few tense seconds. But the furious rejection never arrived. He remained tense but slowly his jaw unclenched, as did the bunched fists resting on the stone balustrade.
After a minute of his gaze roving the landscape, he finally spoke. ‘I told you the foster carer judged me as a problem child on that first day she visited?’
Her nod was jerky, her emotions churning with distress for him. ‘Yes.’
He shrugged. ‘In the first month alone, I ended up being moved to three different foster homes, each one progressively worse than the last.’
Her heart squeezed tighter when he exhaled harshly.
‘In the third month, I was placed with carers who believed the harsher the corporal punishment they doled out, the better.’ Naked fury washed over his face and she knew he was reliving the horrendous memory. ‘It didn’t matter how young or old the children were. They all received the same treatment—a fist or a belt for the smallest infraction.’
‘God.’
His head jerked down, his mouth thinning. ‘I grew tired of it very quickly. Especially when it became clear they weren’t beating us just to be corrective but to merely suppress us because they could. It was base cruelty for the sake of it, because they could get away with and it and be rewarded with a pay cheque at the end of the month. So I decided to do something about it.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What did you do?’
‘My first instinct was just to leave. I figured the streets would be far better than what I was enduring.’ The harsh twist of his mouth suggested he’d discovered differently. ‘But I couldn’t leave the other children under those conditions, especially the three younger ones.’
Her little finger bumped his and she realised she’d moved closer without conscious thought. He glanced down at where they touched for a long moment before his gaze returned to the horizon.
‘By a stroke of fate, luck or whatever you wish to call it, the decision was taken out of my hands. A lit cigarette left untended by a drunk foster mother literally ignited the start I wanted.’
